


I Wish

by anarchybeauty



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Isolation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24152884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchybeauty/pseuds/anarchybeauty
Summary: Mulder and Scully are in quarantine.  Whatever will they do?
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	I Wish

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt "quarantine" in a group I'm in. It kinda ran away from me and became smut, but what can ya do?

Scully sighed and turned away from the window. It was a dreary day in Boston, cold, grey and drizzling.

She headed to the tiny kitchenette to make tea. Mulder was snoring on the couch, a basketball game on the tv. She supposed she would have to get used to it, since they were going to be stuck in here together for the next 28 days. Here was a spartan studio apartment, an FBI safe house. A double size bed in one corner, a rickety card table in the other as a dining table, couch and television at the centre.

It had all started two days earlier when they had been sent to investigate a possible haunting, which had spiralled into a secret underground lab and one thing led to another, and they were both exposed to a virus. They were both at a low risk of becoming ill, but the higher ups refused to take any chances. They needed to be isolated for 28 day. Maybe she’d get back to doing yoga.

Scully knelt down to check the bar fridge. Pint of milk, pint of juice, some yogurt. Someone was supposed to drop off groceries, toiletries and clothes for them later. While the kettle boiled, she wrote out a list of personal effects she wanted. 

She took her tea and settled on the floor in front of the couch. She switched over to the news, slipping off her blazer and kicking off her shoes. She finished her tea and leaned her head back.

Mulder awoke slowly. Someone was talking quietly, it was dark and someone was snuggled against his arm. Slowly it started to come back to him: the lab, running in the rain, the exam at the hospital. He opened his eyes, and found Scully sleeping on his arm. As much as he hated to, he knew he had to wake her and coax her to move to the bed.

Before he had the chance, there was a knock at the door. Scully jolted awake and winced at her sore neck.

“Coming!” Mulder called, struggling to stand up.

“I’m leaving it in the hallway,” someone said through the door.

They unpacked their meager supplies. They ate sandwiches while watching a truly terrible movie. They each showered and put on sweats. Scully read, Mulder flipped through the latest issue of the National Enquirer.

They had been stuck in places before, of course. Stake outs, stranded in the woods, decontamination. But this felt different somehow. This was danger mixed with boredom and monotony.

The days went on, the same every day. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Scully plowed through five books in as many days. Mulder did the crossword, took up Hackysack and got deeply addicted to daytime TV.

Mulder slept on the couch; he had insisted saying he preferred it. Scully thought about inviting him to join her in bed, not for any sexual reason of course, he was her friend and she was craving human touch. Not that she had anyone at home, not since Queequeg got eaten, but well… What was a little platonic cuddling between pals? 

Truth was, she had been looking at Mulder differently lately. Ever since she that slightly drunk phone call while she was in the bath, sometimes he would ask her something innocuous, like to pass him the stapler, and she was back in the bath, listening to him listen to her. 

She was never one for casual sex, but it had been longer than she’d like to admit since she’d been to bed with anyone (or anything that didn’t need batteries). And now she was going to spend a month without her trusty battery operated boyfriend. 

On day 6, the usual knock on the door came late in the afternoon. Scully was unlocking the door, when a familiar voice called from the other side.

“You can crack the door, but take a step back.”

“This is quite the surprise, sir.” Skinner was in the hallway, two paper bags tucked under his arms. The usual supply box was at his feet.

“I just wanted to check on you.” He shifted awkwardly. “I brought you something extra, just don’t tell the Bureau.”

Skinner carefully put the bags on the floor and walked off with a wave.

Once the bags were inside, she saw why. They were stuffed with Chinese food, beer and a very nice bottle of Scotch. Tucked into the box, next to a fresh book of crosswords was a stack of Twilight Zone tapes.

They sat on opposite ends of the couch, drinking beer, eating egg rolls and watching the Twilight Zone. 

“Let’s play a game,” Mulder said, opening another beer. “Make a wish, and then I’ll grant it but with a condition.”

Scully considered for a moment. “I wish I was in Hawaii.”

“Granted, but you’re trapped in a motel room with no windows.”

Scully groaned and laughed. “That’s terrible! Your turn.”

“I wish… my fish could talk.”

“Granted, but your fish are shockingly racist and insult you all day.”

They made wishes through another beer. Scully cracked open a fortune cookie.

“Pass me one of those.” She tossed him a cookie, which hit him squarely in the nose. Scully giggled.

“Watch yourself, I know where you sleep,” Mulder mockingly threatened, poking her in the knee with his toe. 

“What’s your fortune?” she asked, trying to compose herself. The beer had gone right to her head and she was feeling extra giggly. The fact that Mulder was sprawled across the couch in his sweats, barefoot, hair disheveled, wasn’t helping. It was too bad they’d just eaten all that Kung Pao chicken, because he looked good enough to eat.

“Follow your heart and you will be successful…. Between the sheets.”

Scully laughed and blushed, trying to ignore the mental image that popped into her mind. She opened hers.

“You are the architect of your own fortune. Between the sheets.”

Mulder snorted and coughed as he inhaled part of his cookie. Scully sat up, her back against the arm rest. She contemplated what to say next.

“Mulder… can I ask you something personal?”

He straightened up as well, mirroring her pose, their feet meeting on the centre cushion.

“I’m an open book,” he said, spreading his hands.

“Do you remember that night I went to Maine and you called me while I was in the bath?”

Mulder inhaled sharply. “Vividly.”

“We never talked about it.”

“I was scared. I care about you deeply, Scully, and the thought of ruining our friendship because we were both horny... I don’t care how attracted to you I am, I don’t want to lose that.”

“Mulder, I want to make another wish.” She shifted forward. “I wish you would kiss me.”

Mulder cupped her face, drinking in the sight of her, eyes half closed, lips parted, waiting for him. Her hands tangled in his hair and she closed her eyes. Then his mouth was on hers, soft and teasing, but it wasn’t enough. She pressed him back against the couch, finally feeling his body against hers.

His hands slid down her back to the curve of her waist. He’d fantasized about this moment for years and now, it felt so surreal, making out on a lumpy old couch. His fingers flirted with the edge of her cami, and she purred at the sparks his touch ignited.

Scully sat back, straddling his waist, and pulled off her cami, before pushing his t-shirt up and diving in for another kiss. They both moaned at the feel of their bellies touching. Mulder’s hands went lower, sliding under the waistband of her silky pyjama pants. He cupped her rear, pulling her against him, pressing his hardness into her softness.

Scully raised her head, her eyes hooded and lips swollen, and breathed the words he’d long yearned to hear.

“I wish you would take me to bed.”

Scully got up, and headed to the bed, shedding her remaining clothes as she went. Mulder followed hurriedly, almost tripping on his own pants. They attacked each other with the intensity of years of waiting. She cried out as he thrust into her, feeling warm and full and whole. Mulder kissed her neck, her pulse racing under his lips. She dug her nails into his back, grinding against him. 

“I wish you would cum for me,” he growled in her ear, and the sound of his voice tipped her over the edge and she was flying, crying out, her body shuddering beneath him.

The sight of Scully having an Earth shattering orgasm was more than enough for him, and Mulder came with a roar. He collapsed on to the mattress next to her and pulled her close. As he pressed sizzling kisses to her neck, Scully couldn’t help but think that quarantine was about to get a lot more interesting.


End file.
